


Goodbye, Norma Jean

by aralias



Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Baz has chest hair, Bondage, Choking, Dom/sub, M/M, Orgasm Denial, Spanking, Watford Eighth Year, all the things you asked for annabellelux, also has plot, can't believe i forgot the spanking, candle in the wind, check epilogue author's note for potential trigger warning for that chapter only, magic sharing, magical mishap, sorry - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-17
Updated: 2021-01-24
Packaged: 2021-03-14 20:07:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 14,134
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28801065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aralias/pseuds/aralias
Summary: Eighth year AU. Baz makes the mistake of singing Elton John while filled with Simon's magic.
Relationships: Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow
Comments: 87
Kudos: 272





	1. Goodbye, Norma Jean

**Author's Note:**

  * For [annabellelux](https://archiveofourown.org/users/annabellelux/gifts).



> I was going to publish this on Valentine's Day to celebrate how Annabellelux and PipsqueakParker invited me to be in a zine that was going to be published on that day, but was then cancelled. Then I wrote most of this in a day and got too excited and now I'm posting it now, because I want to. 
> 
> This is not the fic I would have written for the zine - it's far, far too long, but I think it's better. 
> 
> It's also almost exactly what you'd get if you took these fics (three of them written by me) and shook them up together:  
> \- [Sex and Blood](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19791214)  
> \- [ Fuck the Wavering Wood](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25210594)  
> \- [ Sweaty Teenage Fantasies](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27608102)  
> \- [Catch Me If You Can](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14613672/chapters/33775152) by sorbriquette (incredible fic, highly recommend) 
> 
> For all that much of it is unoriginal, I enjoy it a lot, that's why I wanted to post it asap - and if you like the fics I've mentioned above, I think you will like this too. Particularly you, Annabellelux!! (Seb - hoping to post your fic on Valentine's Day, as planned! But hopefully you like this one too.)
> 
> Thank you Giishu for betaing it, even though I said you would have until the 14th of February, and then rapidly changed that to 'Less than 24 hours would be ideal actually'. You caught all kinds of weird sentences <3

**SIMON**

We’re in the dining hall when it happens.

I have my hand on Baz’s leg, because we’ve got a truce at the moment. It’s not weird. We agreed after the dragon and the stars that it’s good for me to share my magic with him. It helps me let off steam without hurting anyone, and Baz likes it. He says it gives him a buzz. That means it’s a win-win and I’ve started doing it all the time. Sharing my magic with him. And – to do that – I have to touch him, so.

We _have_ got some pretty odd looks since I started doing it, though. Penny even flat-out asked me why I was holding Baz’s hand in Political Science. When I explained that he liked it _(“It’s not that he needs comforting – Baz isn’t emotional about taxes, or anything,”)_ , she frowned. And when I said that _I_ like it because it’s useful _and_ because when Baz is drunk on my magic, he’s much less of a dick, she frowned even harder.

 _“I’m not sure it’s ethical to keep drugging Baz just to get him to be nice to you, Simon,”_ she told me.

 _“Tell Bunce, she should mind her own fucking business,”_ Baz snarled when I told him that. Then he practically grabbed my hand and demanded I top him up, so I know he’s OK with it.

Anyway, Penny’s off with Agatha today. She’s still avoiding me after our break-up. (Agatha, that is, not Penny. Penny’s never _that_ annoyed with me.) That means it’s just me and Baz at our table.

I’m eating – one handed – and Baz is reading the _Record_ and humming to himself. Elton John. The same song as that taxi-driving goblin was singing. Before I killed him and had to – badly – cover it up. But I don’t have to think about that right now, so I don’t. I can just enjoy my lunch.

I didn’t know Baz liked Elton John. He always listens to music with headphones on in our room, so I never get to hear what it is. I thought he’d be into something edgier. A band with a name I can’t pronounce that I’ve never heard of. But he must like Elton, he’s smiling.

It’s nice. One of the few quiet moments I’ve had this year.

I’m not thinking about Nicodemus, or the war, or where I’m going to go for Christmas now Agatha’s dumped me (Penny’s asking her mum, but even if she says yes, I’m not exactly looking forward to it. I know her mum hates me.) I’m just eating. And it’s _nice_.

Baz has a good voice and, honestly, it’s much better sitting with him so I know what he’s doing. In the old days, before our truce, at least some meals were ruined because I wasn’t able to enjoy my food, I was trying to see what Baz was up to. Or I’d be eating quickly, because Baz wasn’t around and I needed to stop wasting time and go after him.

I push a bit more magic into him just as he starts singing, rather than humming. _“It seemed to me, you lived your life, like a **candle in the wind.** ”_

We both hear it. The words of the spell catching, filling up with my magic. And I yank my hand away.

Baz is livid. “What in snakes just happened?”

He’s glaring at me, like I should be in fear of my life. Even though _he_ was the one singing.

“It’s just my magic,” I explain. “Sorry. It does that sometimes. I guess it works on you too, now.”

“ _Works_ without a wand?”

“Yeah,” I say. “Sometimes even when it’s not a real spell.”

I’m about to tell him about how I accidentally spelled Agatha the night she broke up with me, but Baz doesn’t seem in the mood for How Simon Breaks the Laws of Magic, even though it’s one of his favourite things to bitch about.

I suppose we did almost start a fire we couldn’t put out with **Candle in the wind** and Baz _is_ a vampire, even if he won’t admit it. Of course he's annoyed, even though nothing happened. He doesn't want to die.

“Why is _nothing_ about you normal?” he seethes. 

“It’s all right.” I’m trying to calm him down, although I can tell it’s not working. “You didn’t set yourself on fire. And the spell only works the other way if you already have a stiffy. You’re fine.”

Baz looks awkward and I glance down into his lap without meaning to. He crosses his legs.

“You were stroking my thigh,” he says defensively. “Anyone would have. It’s a physical reaction.”

I guess that makes sense. People don’t really touch me, except Penny and she’s like my sister, so I don’t really know what’s normal. Baz didn’t push me away, so I thought he didn’t mind. Maybe he didn’t want me to _know_ that he minded, but it must’ve been awkward for him. What if I’d moved my hand up any higher by mistake?

 _“That would be inappropriate at_ any time, _Simon!”_ Penny’s voice says in my head.

She’s right.

She’d also tell me I need to stop thinking about Baz’s cock. And especially me touching it by accident. But it’s really hard.

(Hard not to think about it, I mean, because it’s partly my fault. Although Baz’s cock is hard, too.) (I assume – I haven’t looked at it properly.)

“What are you going to do about it?” I ask quietly.

 **Candle in the wind** is a bad enough spell when normal people cast it. (Normal magicians, I mean. Not Normal people. For them, it’s just a song.) With my magic, the effect could last – well, a long time. Baz is supposed to be in class in half an hour. We’ve got Magic Words together.

Baz flushes. “I don’t know.”

“Do you know the counter-spell?”

He shakes his head. “I’m not even sure that there is one.”

“Shit,” I say. Which I know is inadequate, but I don’t really know what _to_ say. I’ve just given my enemy magical Viagra. My enemy who I was sort of getting along with, now has an erection that might last the rest of the day because of me. (My magic – his singing.) I can’t help thinking it’s probably ruined our truce. Which is – well, it’s shit, isn’t it? Because I think it was actually working out for both of us, even though we haven’t figured out who Nicodemus is yet and that was supposed to be the point.

“Excuse me,” Baz says tightly.

He stands with as much dignity as possible (which is quite a lot) (this _is_ Baz, after all) and walks quickly out of the dining hall. I try and go back to my lunch, but it’s hard to concentrate on lasagne when I know Baz is either in the library or … back in our room. Trying to get rid of … what’s happened. 

I almost go to Magic Words, but at the last minute I keep going and head back to Mummers House instead. Baz isn’t in our room, but the bathroom door is shut and there’s light under the bottom.

“It’s me,” I say. (Stupidly. Who else would it be?) I hear Baz bump into something behind the door and then yelp. He sounds … unhappy.

“Are you all right?” I ask him.

There are more noises from the bathroom. Mostly swearing. I’m just starting to think that maybe I shouldn’t be here and that he might want some privacy when the door opens and Baz comes out.

He’s clearly had a shower, because his hair’s wet, but he’s back in his uniform. Part of it anyway – his shirt and trousers, although the shirt isn’t buttoned right. And also, Baz hasn’t dried himself properly, because it’s sticking to him. I can see his nipples and what I think is probably his chest hair, neither of which I’ve ever seen before. (Baz is never this dishevelled. He always looks perfectly put together.)

His face is flushed, probably from the hot water.

“It hasn’t gone away,” he says helplessly.

I try not to look down. Again.

“Yeah. Well, that’s the spell, isn’t it?”

Baz moans – I try not to think about why. “Why couldn’t I have just lit myself on fire?”

“You’re too good at elocution,” I say. Which makes him glare at me, even though I was trying to be nice.

“Why are you even here?” Baz says. “Shouldn’t you be in class?”

“You’re not.”

“ _Yes_ ,” Baz says. “But that’s because— Look, never mind. If you’re going to be here, you could at least make yourself useful.”

It’s what I’ve been waiting for him to say, I realise. It’s why I came up here. I wanted to help. To make him feel better, even though it wasn’t my fault this happened. So we can go back to how things were. With the truce.

I’m surprised Baz is going for it, but I’m grateful. To have this chance to make things right.

“Yeah,” I say, loosening my tie. “All right. I can help.”

**BAZ**

Snow is taking off his tie. And now his _shirt_.

I think about telling him that what I meant was that he could go down to the library for me and research this damned spell while I tried again to wank it out of my system. I’d even have considered allowing him to try and cast one of his made-up spells on me – anything to get out of this excruciating holding pattern.

I didn’t expect him to start stripping, clearly perfectly willing to try and get me off in the old-fashioned way. Crowley.

I’ve been slow on the uptake until now (because I can’t believe that what I’m seeing is actually happening and isn’t just some delusion brought on by a dodgy spell and far too many wet dreams about my roommate), but a Pitch has never looked a gift horse in the mouth. And I’ve never backed down from anything Snow has thrown at me.

Also, I’ve been desperate to have sex with him for the last two years and now it might actually be happening. So even though the situation is extremely humiliating and will only become more so over time, I start unbuttoning my shirt too.

Snow watches me do it, his eyes darting back up to my face. He’s already removed _his_ shirt – I can see every inch of his golden chest – but now he seems to be nervous.

“It’s fine,” I say – to reassure him. And myself. “Take your trousers off.”

He does.

I have to look away – but I don’t want to look away, so my eyes are back on him by the time he’s tugging off his socks. By which I mean: by the time that Simon Snow is standing in our room in just his pants. Watching me finish undressing.

It’s an extremely distracting view. It would be even if my skin wasn’t already throbbing. His legs are strong and thick. So is his chest. Both are covered with a gorgeous spattering of freckles and moles I never thought I’d see.

I’m trying to take all of him in without seeming too eager, but my eyes catch on the cross hanging around his neck. If we’re going to do this – touch each other properly, that is – he’ll have to take it off or I’ll end up burning myself after all, despite my elocution. But I have no idea how to ask him to take it off, without revealing what I am. Fortunately, Snow notices my hesitation and tugs the necklace off, before I can work out what to say.

“That wasn’t necessary,” I tell him, just to keep up appearances. 

Snow rolls his eyes.

“Can I kiss you?” he says. “It might help.”

It’s not exactly what I hoped for. I thought my first kiss might be more than just obligation. An apology for spelling me with a ridiculous magical erection. I was hoping for fireworks. A foot-pop moment. But it’s also a first kiss from the person I want most in the world at a time when I’m more than usually desperate for physical contact. Hardly a choice.

I nod, trying not to look to look like I’m gagging for him.

“You may.”

I stop myself stepping back as he moves into my space. I remind myself he’s not trying to fight me; he’s going to kiss me. (Crowley, he’s actually going to do it.) I’m not sure what to do with my hands or whether I should look at him, but Snow knows what he’s doing. He takes my head in his hands and draws my face down towards his.

He’s practically naked, we both are, and his skin radiates heat. As his lips meet mine, his chest presses against mine too – and I push needily forward into the warmth. My hips press into him. Which means my hard cock presses into him.

Which means I jerk back, away from him before he’s really got going – even though my body feels like it’s on fire and pressing into Snow is the only way I might put it out. 

That’s my libido talking, though, and I can control it. (I can _try_ , anyway.) I know we agreed to have sex, but Snow’s straight. He doesn’t need to be reminded I have a massive erection, even though that _is_ why we were kissing.

Somehow, he’s still smiling, though. Not looking horrified and disgusted.

“It’s all right,” he says. “I knew what I was getting into.”

I try not to pout at that (I _knew_ he was only doing this out of obligation, it shouldn’t hurt to hear it). And then – to my surprise – succeed as Snow pushes a hand into my damp hair.

“I wish it wasn’t wet,” he says. “I always imagined it would feel silky.”

“You’ve imagined touching my hair?”

“Yes?” Snow shrugs. “Hasn’t everyone?”

I have no idea whether he’s right – whether the whole school has been lusting after my hair all these years and it’s something everyone knows. I just catch his lips with mine again and this time he pulls my hips _into_ him with his free hand. That makes me groan, the collision of my cock and Simon Snow’s body, and he uses my surprise to slip me the tongue.

I still have no idea what I’m doing, but everything feels good and Snow is clearly more comfortable in his masculinity than I ever imagined, so I just let it happen. I lick at his tongue, sucking it deep into my mouth, and even pull Snow closer. I let myself rut into him as he kisses me, but it’s not enough.

If this were happening on a normal day, I’d probably already have come by now. I’ve been wanting this for a long time and Snow’s not holding back. Any other day, I’d have come the moment he pressed into me.

But the spell wants more than, and Snow’s offering more than that (is he? He hasn’t said he isn’t), so I twist my head away.

“I have lube in the bathroom.”

“All right,” Snow says. He’s kissing my neck now – it feels fucking fantastic, but I push him away anyway.

“Go and wait on the bed.”

“Which one?” he asks.

“Mine, _obviously_. Yours is covered in crisps.”

I hunt around in the cabinet for the same stuff I used half an hour ago to try and get myself off on my own fingers. I imagined they were Snow’s cock. (Obviously.) Now, somehow, I’m about to get the real thing.

What the fuck has happened to my life? I have no idea.

“Your bed would be covered in crisps too if you didn’t just sweep the crumbs onto the floor,” Snow says as I return to the bedroom.

He’s lounging on my bed in his pants (I file the image away for masturbation fodder later), looking slightly awkward – though he seems to cheer up when he sees me and the bottle I’ve brought with me from the bathroom. Maybe he thought I was just taking the piss. That I was going to laugh at him.

I have done in the past, but I wouldn’t laugh about Snow being mostly naked in my bed, waiting to fuck me. I feel a bit hysterical, but more than that I feel hungry. Desperate to come with him inside me.

I cast **Better safe than sorry** over both of us, and then practically throw myself on him, crashing my lips into his. Snow lets me do it, although he does turn me with his shoulder so that I’m on my back and he’s on top of me. I’m more than happy to let him do it, though. I _like_ being underneath him. I like the weight of his body pressing me into the mattress, squashing the air deliciously out of me. It's what he always does in my imagination.

I wedge my fingers under the waistband of his boxer shorts and Snow raises his hips so I can get them off him. I’d been worried that, whatever he said about _helping_ me, he wouldn’t actually be able to get it up for a boy (or for me). Meaning I’d have had to settle for some sort of awkward handjob.

But what I actually unveil is a hard, wet, _hot_ beast of an erection, which kicks in my hand as I cover it in lubricant and Snow struggles to get my pants down, too. He’s just as turned on as I am. (Well, possibly not _as_ turned on – my ardour is enhanced with his ridiculous magic, after all. But he definitely wants it.)

I feel a brief flare of hope that he might genuinely like me. (He _has_ been touching me a lot recently, even if I usually start it, and we both maintain we’re only doing it so he can give me his magic). And then ruthlessly crush that hope.

Just because I was lying when I said that _anyone_ would have reacted as I did to a bit of vaguely sexual contact, and that’s why I was hard while we were eating lunch earlier, doesn’t meant that I wasn’t right. Physical contact _is_ stimulating. And there’s a lot Snow and I in contact right now.

That doesn’t mean there couldn’t be more, though.

“I’ve already stretched myself,” I tell him breathlessly. “Earlier in the shower. It should be easy to push right in.”

Snow looks adorably fuck-drunk already and we haven’t even got started. His hair is all over the place.

“Push… where?” he asks.

Normally, I’d make something of that. (Honestly. _Straight_ men – do they learn nothing from the internet?) But I want him too much to sabotage myself right now, so I just helpfully raise my leg. Hooking it around his waist and using the leverage to hoist my pelvis up high enough that his slick cock slides between my buttocks.

“There. Be as rough as you want. Let’s fuck this thing out of my system.”

Snow groans, but it’s not a bad groan. It’s a very good one, because the next thing I know he’s lifting my other leg and putting that round his hip too. And grabbing the pillow from behind my head and shoving it underneath me. 

This is really going to happen. (Crowley, I hope he _does_ want to be rough.)

I feel the head of Snow’s cock nudging sweetly at the rim of my anus. I already feel like I’m losing my mind. I grip him tightly with my legs, trying to drag him into me by force if necessary.

“ _Easy_ ,” Snow says gently. He runs a large hand up along my side and I shut my eyes in frustration. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

I want to say, _You won’t_. (But he might – and that’s not even counting the psychological damage of this shag.)

I want to say, _You can. I’ll enjoy it._ (Quite a few of my fantasies involve Snow hurting me in ways that would probably disgust him.) 

“Just get on with it,” I say instead.

Snow grunts at that. He’s not pleased this time, I think. Which I’m surprised at. I thought he’d welcome the reminder that this is just a transaction for both of us, and neither of us can wait until it’s over.

“Think about the person you fancy most doing this to you,” he says nobly – he’s petting my nipples now. With both hands. (I want to die.) “Even if it’s Agatha. That might help you enjoy it. And, you know, come.”

 _That_ one I can’t let go. I crack an eye open to look at him, held tightly between my legs.

“Snow, I’ve asked you to bugger me – I’m clearly gay.” 

“Oh,” he says. “Right.”

I watch as he processes that information, his world view changing around the idea that I must never have wanted his ex-girlfriend.

“Do you do this all the time, then?”

I scowl. “No, you’re my first.”

“But you’re so gorgeous,” Snow says, surprised.

Then – while I’m still reeling from that – he pushes in.

Somehow, I don’t know how (maybe it’s the magic, or maybe all that sword-training has given him transferable skills), he gets it right first time. He doesn’t miss. The head of him stretches me, almost too wide at first, and then the rest of him slips in, inch by inch, until he bottoms out and I have Simon Snow’s cock fully sheathed inside me.

I feel like I can’t breathe, but in a good way. A deep, rich agony. A little like when Snow broke my nose, actually. My body flooded with endorphins from the pain and Snow was so worried about getting expelled that he couldn’t stop looking after me anxiously.

He’s looking down at me anxiously right now.

“Are you all right?”

I nod eagerly. “Now fuck me.” I dig my heel into his lower back. My cock throbs as he swallows. “Come on, Snow. It’s not rocket science.”

He sticks his chin forward. I try and bite it, and he smiles. “I’ve never done this before either.”

“So I assumed. But you’re doing fine. Or you _would_ be if you started moving.”

He backs off at bit, his cock dragging out of me. I press my head back into the space where my pillow usually is. “Fuck. Yes, Snow. Harder. More.”

“You don’t need to use my name,” he tells me. “You can imagine whoever you want. Whoever you most fancy.”

“I _am_ ,” I tell him.

Because I am. I’m imagining Simon Snow fucking the life out of me. The reality is a little slower and it keeps trying to tell me to think about someone else, which is sweet, but annoying. However, I’m sure it’ll catch up to the fantasy soon.

“I mean, it could be Gareth,” Snow continues doggedly. “Dev. Chris Hemsworth—”

I need him to stop talking. I do actually fancy Hemsworth (I have eyes), but who could look at _Gareth_ when he’s in the same class as Simon bloody Snow? And Dev is my cousin.

“Look, Simon,” I say firmly – and he startles, jostling me a bit. (At his first name, I think. I’ve never used it before.) (I’d do it again if it made him hit me in that particular spot.) “I’ll murder you if you ever mention this again, but the person I fancy most in the entire universe is you. I _am_ thinking of you. I’d be thinking of you if I was with anyone else. So, will you please stop listing other men and _fuck_ me?”

I don’t like being honest, but he’ll notice when I can’t stop whimpering his name during my orgasm.

I roll my hips to give him the idea, but he doesn’t move. His mouth is hanging open. (I think about putting my tongue in it.)

“ _You_ fancy me?”

“Yes,” I say, trying to make it sound light. Not as if I’m tragically in love with him, or so desperate to be shagged by him right now that I would literally gnaw off my own arm if he asked.

I’m beginning to think I might have overplayed my hand. I thought there might – just _might_ – be something real between us, but now I’ve come on too strong while Snow has his cock in me and can’t get away. (I shouldn’t have said, ‘the entire universe’. _Fuck_. I should have said I fancied him and left it at that. That would’ve been normal.)

“I’m sorry if that makes this awkward for you,” I say stiffly. “Please don’t—” I begin, before Snow shuts me up with his mouth.

**SIMON**

It’s me.

 _I’m_ the person Baz wants to think about while he’s having sex.

Obviously, I’m also the one _actually_ having sex with Baz right now, but – even though that’s incredible (Baz’s body is so firm and gorgeously cool, and the way his arse feels around my cock makes my hand look like a fucking joke) – it actually feels less important than the mental thing. We’ve having sex because he spelled himself and I was there because I skipped Magic Words. At least, I thought that’s why we were having sex.

But if he actually likes me, it’s all different. _That_ matters.

I think he does – like me. He’s kissing me as though he does, even though I started it. Making these soft little noises into my mouth and grinding his hips up into me as he does it. I can feel his cock sliding against my stomach and – I like it.

I think I like him.

It’s more obvious when we’re already in bed together, but it’s also occurring to me that maybe putting your hand on someone else’s thigh while you eat lunch together _isn’t_ normal. I don’t touch Penny like that. I’ve never touched anyone like that, before. Agatha, maybe. When we were together. But she’d usually find an excuse to move if I tried it. Baz didn’t move. It turned him on.

Holding hands with Baz was nice too, even if I thought I was only doing it so I could give him my magic. Eating lunch with him was nice.

And this. Lying on top of him, being held tightly inside him. Kissing him and being kissed by him. I want to keep doing it.

I pull my hips back before pressing into Baz again, deeper. He arches up into me, his mouth sliding away, as he struggles for breath. I press my mouth against his shuddering throat instead.

“Do you want to be my boyfriend?”

Baz’s makes a sound like a sob. (It’s hot.) His nails dig into my back.

“You think _this_ is a good time, Snow?”

“Yes,” I say. It feels like exactly the right time to me. “Before we go any further. So, we both know where we stand.”

“Your cock is _literally_ inside me,” Baz snaps. “How much further do you think there is?”

“You don’t want to go out with me.”

Baz makes the same sound again – like he’s in pain, but also like he’s laughing a bit. Through the pain. (So fucking hot.)

“I didn’t say that. This just isn’t how I thought this would happen – if it happened at all.”

I lean down to kiss him, to make it nicer for him – but he pushes me back.

“And I _really_ need you to fuck me now, more than anything else. Before this spell makes me actually lose my mind.”

I quite like the idea of Baz losing his mind now I know it’s because of me. And I think I quite like having him at my mercy, too; denying him what he wants until he asks nicely. But knowing Baz that might be never and I like him enough that I don’t mind if he doesn’t.

“Right. Sorry.” I shift my hips and Baz nods desperately. As though to say, _exactly, more of that._ “But we _are_ boyfriends now?” I press.

“ _Yes_ ,” he says. “If you want. Now please _, do_ something. _”_

He doesn’t need to tell me again. Not that he needed to tell me all the other times – my body definitely knew what it wanted to do – but I feel better now knowing that I’m making love to Baz and not just getting off with him or helping him out.

I grip the end of his bed, so I have more leverage, and pull myself forward, hard. Baz moans the word _yes_ , and he does it again when I do it again. His nails dig deeper into my skin.

“ _Yes_ , Simon,” he breathes against my ear. “Yes. Yes. Yes.”

Each _yes_ is timed with each thrust. I feel like I’m shocking it out of him each time. I think I can make him say it faster by going faster, which is what I want to do anyway. The pressure on my cock from his body is so good, but I need more friction. I jackhammer my hips into him, and Baz stumbles in his litany.

“Oh, _Crowley_ ,” he whimpers. “Sweet merciful Morgana. _Simon_.”

He’s not saying _yes_ anymore, but I don’t think that means he wants me to stop. I think he’d kill me if I stopped, probably literally, knowing Baz. And I can’t stop anyway. My brain is whiting out, like I’m about to go off. Pressure’s building in my balls, which are slapping against Baz’s lovely arse, and my cock is pulsing.

I press my face into Baz’s collarbone. “I think I’m going to come.”

He makes a wretched, lost sound. It reminds me what we’re doing here.

“Are you?” I ask, hoping the answer is yes. “Close?”

He shakes his head and I swear.

"Fuck."

I don’t know if I can stop, but I do try. My rhythm falters, and then Baz’s hands are on my arse and he’s holding me firmly in place. His voice is a growl.

“ _Simon_. Just fucking _come_ in me.”

It’s the sexiest thing I’ve ever heard.

I stop holding back. I let go, spilling into Baz while he holds me in his death grip and his body shudders and jerks beneath me.

It feels so good. So good. Laying into Baz, giving him everything I’ve got and making him tremble. It’s much better than when I’ve jerked off alone. Better than biting into a cold slab of butter on a hot scone or when my magic actually goes right. Better than anything.

Once I get my breath back, I want to tell Baz how perfect it was, how perfect _he_ is, but I can still feel his cock – rock hard between us – and I’m not sure it’d go well, since I know he wants to come more than I did. So I just pull out and roll onto my side.

Baz is breathing hard too. It’s making his chest heave. I never thought that I’d be into a man’s chest – I like cleavage. I think. Baz’s chest is flat and dusted with soft dark hair, which his pink nipples peak through. They’re hard – and probably sensitive. Baz was writhing earlier when I stroked them and that was when they were soft.

I lean over and suck one of them into my mouth (because I am, in fact, _very_ into Baz’s chest). He hisses and then pushes me back.

“That’s not helping. It just makes me want sex _more._ ”

I let my eyes range down the rest of Baz’s long, lean body. He’s got one leg up, bent at the knee, between us – I think to hide myself from me. I push it down gently so I can see him.

I haven’t really looked at Baz’s cock properly yet, although I’ve certainty felt it and I feel like we’re pretty close friends already. It curves up towards his belly in a hard line, the head slick and shiny. Begging to be cleaned up. Licked dry. If I tilt my head, I can see a wet patch that must be my come leaking out of him. (I think about licking that up, too.)

“I don’t mind sucking something else,” I offer since I’m apparently already moving down the bed.

Baz shakes his head. “No. Thank you.”

“You’d probably like it,” I say defensively.

“I know.” Baz presses the heel of his hands into his eyes. “And if you _are_ my boyfriend now, I’d actually like you to suck me off regularly.”

I still don’t get it. Sounds like another win-win situation to me.

“I will.”

Baz lifts one hand to smile tiredly at me. “Right. Well, I don’t want you to hate it because the first time you tried, you had to do it for two _hours_.”

“I could start and then stop,” I suggest.

Baz huffs a laugh. “You don’t leave jobs half done, Snow. And even if you stopped being stubborn long enough to try to quit, I’d probably just hold you in place. Assuming it’s as good as I think it is.”

I lick my lips. (I like the idea of Baz holding me in place because he wants me that much; and I like the idea of holding _him_ down even more and now I’m thinking about _that_ ). Baz is watching; I’m watching him. I lick my lips again and he actually shudders. Then buries his face in the mattress and shouts wordlessly in frustration.

“I want to come so _much_.” 

His shoulders are shaking. He’s on his side now and, without even meaning to I think, Baz starts pressing his hips into the bed, trying to rub himself off.

We abandoned the lube bottle on the floor. I scoop it up, squirt some into my hand, and then join him at the head of the bed. “I know, sweetheart.”

I’ve never seen Baz so undignified. It’s an effort not to find it attractive and I’m only making that effort because I know Baz prides himself on being put together and he wouldn’t like knowing I like him like this. Coming apart. Still with my come in him. Fucking himself on his own bed because he needs it so badly.

He whimpers as I push his hips back with my dry hand, stopping him humping the mattress. “ _Simon_. Please—”

“Shh.”

I pull him back up against my chest and then I put my slick hand around Baz’s poor, aching cock and begin stroking him. Sliding up and down, as gently as I can.

“Tell me what I can do, Baz."

“There’s nothing,” Baz says miserably. (But he does wrap a hand around mine, making me wank him faster _and_ harder). “I’ll never have another orgasm. You’ve ruined me.”

I press my face into his hair and kiss him there. “The spell has to break eventually. My magic isn’t that strong.”

“Yes, it is,” Baz moans. “You’re the Greatest fucking Mage. The Power of Powers.”

He’s really making me want to shag him again with all of this. I’ve never found any of my titles hot, but god, Baz makes them sound sexy. (Right now, I mean. He’s always sneered them before. But now I’m thinking he might have done that because he gets off on how powerful I am. It’s hard to hide that sort of thing when the bloke you’re talking about has your cock in his hand.)

Unfortunately, even though my brain is absolutely ready to have another go at Baz, my body is still recovering.

I think about trying to cast **Candle in the Wind** on myself, but I know it’s a fucking stupid idea and I don’t even voice it.

“We’ll find something so overwhelming that your body can’t resist,” I say firmly, slowing my hand down again. “What turns you on?”

Baz glares up at me blearily. “You mean, apart from Chris Hemsworth?”

He’s being a dick. But that’s a relief, frankly. It means he’s still himself.

I keep stroking him. “Chris Hemsworth and me, yeah.”

“I told you not to mention that again,” Baz grumbles. He presses his face into my chest. “I don’t know. I can’t think”

“ _Baz_ ,” I growl. “Tell me”

Baz’s cock jumps in his hand and he groans into my skin. “ _Fuck_.”

“You _liked_ that,” I say accusingly.

“No.”

“Me being angry with you.”

“ _No_ ,” Baz says again. “I don’t, I just—” He gives up. “All right, _yes_. I like the idea of you dominating me. Only sexually, though – not in class. Don’t get any ideas.”

Since I can’t imagine ever being better than Baz in any class, ever, I don’t think that one will come up that often. But I definitely don’t mind the idea of tying Baz up in bed and making him beg for me. I let him go so he can concentrate on what I’m saying.

“Do you want to try now?” I ask

Baz nods, pushing himself into a seated position and curling around his erection. “It might work, yes.”

“All right,” I say. “Any ideas? Stuff you want to try?”

He wets his lips. Then averts his eyes. “Would you … spank me?”

The back of my throat makes a strange choking sound. Baz looks up sharply at me, to make sure I’m not taking the piss, but I’m obviously not. 

Spanking Baz is … Well. I think it’s something I’ve wanted to do for a long time. He’s such a prat sometimes. Always so smug about being better than everyone. And so mean. I’ve told Penny before that someone ought to take him over their knee. (She told me never to say that again.) (I now very much understand why.)

I can’t believe he _wants_ this.

Wants any of this. Or _me_.

I can’t believe my luck.

**BAZ**

“Yeah,” Snow says hoarsely. “I don’t mind.”

For a moment, I think I’ve broken him. (The Humdrum can piss off – I always knew I was Snow’s real nemesis.) (Although I admit, I’m surprised that the thing that took him out for good was the idea of bending me over a desk and beating some respect into me.)

But fortunately for me – and the World of Mages, I suppose – it doesn’t last long.

He coughs and scoots back against the wall of our bedroom. “Do you want to lie down in my lap?”

I nod (I really want to lie down in Snow’s lap) (before coming on him, excessively) and struggle to rearrange myself. I’m still stupid with lust, _more_ stupid now. I don’t even know how long we’ve been doing this. All I know is that I haven’t come yet and it’s been at least an hour. My cock aches and my limbs are heavy.

“You can put your cock between my legs, if you want,” Snow suggests, which is probably the best idea he’s ever had.

“Please.” My voice rasps in my throat.

I brace myself over him as he opens his gorgeous, freckled thighs. Once that’s done, I slide myself in and relax into his lap. I rest my head on my arms, near the headboard.

He’s still not hard again, which I’m trying not to be annoyed by, because I know he’s trying. Also, his thighs are exceptionally thick from all the running after goblins (or whatever it is he gets up to), and he’s already squeezed me with them twice since I lay down.

“Comfortable?” he asks.

I nod – I’m finding words difficult right now.

I’m also finding it difficult to concentrate on anything that isn’t my fucking erection and how desperate I am to come. Without even really meaning to, I start thrusting into Snow’s thighs (only a slight step up from humping the bed earlier) and he gives me a light, admonishing slap.

“Baz. Stop. You’re degrading yourself,”

“I _know_ ,” I pant.

I can’t stop myself, though. He just feels too good – and I want him to spank me again, which he does. Harder this time.

“ _Baz_. Be good.”

I let the sob I’ve been holding onto rip its way through my body and try and hold myself still. Snow smooths a hand over my arse.

“Better,” he says. Then his voice changes, becoming softer. More normal. “Is this working for you?”

“Yes.” I’ve always known myself and my desires well, even the most degraded ones. I’m not surprised that I actually _do_ love this as much as I thought I might. “You can be … worse to me, if you want. Meaner.”

“Verbally, or…?”

“Yes,” I say. “Anything.”

“Right,” Snow says and the hand on my arse turns into a single finger that slides into the moisture between my cheeks and then right into me. My breath hitches, but I try not to move, since he asked me not to.

“You know you’ve still got my come all over you?” he asks me. “It’s leaking out of you.”

I did know, obviously. I would have spelled myself clean, but I don’t trust myself right now and I quite like the idea of it, if we’re being completely honest. Having Snow still in me.

Interestingly, he seems to be enjoying it, too. Our vices match. He’s just pushed a second finger in there and is now pumping them into me as I squirm.

“Still there, Baz?” he asks.

I groan something I hope sounds enough like _yes_ to get by. I want to ask him to hit me properly, but I can’t get the words out. Snow’s not stupid, though. He knows what I’ve asked him to do to me.

“It’s disgusting,” he tells me, still fucking me with his own spunk. “You’re being disgusting, Baz.”

I nod. I know I am. I just don’t care.

“Do you have something I can use to keep all this in you while I teach you your lesson?” he asks, a bit too eagerly, but I don’t mind. “Like, a … plug?”

I hesitate. Do I? I can’t really remember.

“No.”

“You’re lying,” Snow says. (Exactly the same way he always tells me I’m lying about being a vampire and about how I’m not trying to kill him. It goes straight to my cock, as usual.)

I shake myself. “I’m not. I don’t have anything here.”

“Why not?” Snow says. (Although now he sounds genuinely disappointed, rather than stern.) (Disappointing.)

“I thought you’d find them.”

He laughs. “Fair. I _have_ looked.” He pulls his fingers out and wipes them on my sheets. “Bring them back with you after Christmas, though? Now we’re together.”

I hear myself say: “Why not come back with me yourself?”

Snow twitches under me. “For Christmas?”

“Yes.”

I’m probably mad. Driven insane by orgasm-deprivation and too much exposure to Snow’s magic, but he’s right. We _are_ together. (Even if I can never tell anyone the story of how it happened.) And I don’t fancy spending two weeks away from him when I could have him in my house, with me.

He’ll like the food. And Daphne. (Probably.) And I don’t think my father will _actually_ bring in the Families to have him killed during the festivities.

“You always spent Christmas with Wellbelove when you were dating,” I say defensively.

I twist my head round to look at him. He looks flushed beneath his freckles. A little shy.

“Yeah, all right.”

I smile at him and he smiles back. Then he wallops me – a loud _crack_ against my arse – and I yelp, jerking between his thighs.

“Even though I _know_ you just invited me because you don’t want to wait two weeks without me fucking your brains out,” he says.

That’s partly true.

“Yes, that’s true,” I gasp and Snow smacks me again. Hard. And again.

“You’d let me spank you like this in your ancestral home?”

I’m panting now. My arse feels hot and tender where he’s hit me.

“Yes.”

“You don’t mind if your family hears you screaming?”

I do mind, but I can cast silencing spells. (Although the idea of how ashamed I’d be if I ever forgot and someone _did_ hear him taking advantage of me is – unfortunately – something that turns me on even more.)

“No.”

“You’re gagging for it,” Snow tells me. His hand cracks against my buttocks again. “You’re a nasty, little, desperate slag, Baz. And if you bring me home for Christmas, your whole family will find out about it.”

“Good.”

“I won’t let you have a minute’s peace,” he promises. “You won’t be able to sit down until New Year.”

I grind myself into his legs. “Fuck, Simon. _Please_.”

I’m not even sure what I’m begging for right now. For him to come home with me; to keep hitting me; _to let me come,_ please, _let me come,_ even though I know he can’t do any such thing.

Snow seems to have his own ideas about what I mean.

“Don’t worry,” he tells me, pushing at my hip so I roll off his lap onto the bed. “I’m going to give it to you.”

I’m on my back now, my inflamed cock still pointing up towards my chest. Snow pulls my legs apart and when I lift my head I see that – thank Mor-fucking-gana – _he’s_ hard again too. That lovely cock he pushed rudely inside me earlier is ready for another assault and Snow’s impatient to begin.

It felt wonderful last time. And nowhere near enough. I’m still just as hard as ever.

The spanking wasn’t enough, either.

I need more. I need to be completely overwhelmed.

“Tie me up first,” I whisper as he lines himself up with my entrance.

The proposal must appeal to him because he practically falls off the bed in his eagerness to find something he can use.

Predictably he comes back with both our school ties. I’m going to have to wear mine again on Monday – it’s going to get _creased_. But I don’t stop him as he kneels next to me, and winds the tie around my wrist and pulls it above my head, looping it around one of the bedposts and knotting it in place.

“ _Tighter_ ,” I hiss and Snow’s hips spasm.

“You’ll lose circulation,” he objects.

“Just do it, Simon.”

He does. Then ties the other wrist even more tightly, so I can feel the fabric almost cutting into my skin. He’s good at this. He restrains dark creatures professionally. I feel captured and displayed for him. Unable to hide any part of myself from his eyes. Crowley, it feels good.

The pain is also good. Enough of a distraction from the throbbing in my crotch and its own form of darker pleasure.

“ _Don’t_ come first this time,” I tell Snow, who is now back between my thighs and _definitely_ looking at me.

He laughs. “I thought I was supposed to be in charge.”

“Do it better, then,” I snarl.

Which is the wrong – or possibly right – thing to say, because the next thing I know Simon Snow is squeezing both my balls tightly, one in each hand and my world is exploding.

It hurts like fuck. Like I’m going to black out.

I’m yelling. Definitely yelling. Trying to kick him off me.

He lets go.

“Too much?”

My eyes are watering. I can hear myself still whimpering. I think I’m dying.

But it wasn’t too much.

I hate how much I liked it.

I blink tearfully at him as I shake my head. My cock is dribbling onto my stomach. My arse still wet and gaping from Snow’s earlier use of me. It’s disgusting. I’m disgusting – I can barely stand myself – but Snow doesn’t mind. Actually, he’s looking at me with something like awe, even now. Even now he’s seen almost all the worst of me. (Thankfully my fangs haven’t popped, but it’s not as if Snow doesn’t know what he’s in bed with. He took off his fucking cross before he kissed me.)

I’ve always felt the need to be perfect. To be the best. But deep down, I knew I wanted this. To give up. To surrender to something greater.

And Snow _is_ greater. He’s so much more powerful than me. He would be, even if he wasn’t the Greatest Mage. And so good – I know he wants to take care of me.

He’s only hurting me because he likes me. Because I asked him to.

I almost want to keep going, to see how far we can push this thing. But I’ve been hard for well over an hour now and I need it to end.

I need Simon Snow to save me from myself. 

“Please, Simon.” My voice is so weak. “Please make me come.”

**SIMON**

I wish I’d made us use my bed, now. The image of Baz bound and spreadeagled across the place I sleep would have haunted me until death.

But Baz tied up in his own bed is still hotter than anything I’ve ever imagined. He’s just so fit _._ And so proud – or he was. Now, when I stretch over him to wipe the tears away from his cheeks, he leans into my hand, like he’s finally so worn out he’s willing to accept gentleness.

( _“See, Penny,”_ I think. _“I don’t need to give him my magic to make Baz nice to me. Fucking his brains out also works.”_ ) (Although I think Penny might also have a few things to say about whether _this_ situation is entirely ethical, but I think I’m right about this too. I’ve checked with Baz at every stage and he’s always said yes. The high from my magic is really brief, that’s why Baz kept taking my hand this week – or at least, I thought it was. That means, he’s in his right mind. He’s just horny.)

“Please,” he whispers again.

“I’m trying,” I tell him. “I’ll keep trying until I do.”

Baz shudders. “Fuck, I fancy you so much.”

“It’s mutual,” I tell him, even though I had no idea this morning. Now that I’m practically lying on top of him, pressing into his leg with an erection I got from spanking him, I can’t really understand how I could ever not have wanted this. (I guess I _did_ want it; I just didn’t know I did. But even that seems like a fairly serious oversight. I mean, _look_ at him.)

I drop a kiss on his open mouth. “You’re the loveliest man I’ve ever seen, Baz.”

“I’m a vampire,” he blurts out.

“Well, you’re still lovely.”

Baz laughs breathlessly – which turns to a shout as I bite him hard over his nipple.

“ _That’s_ for lying to me about it for years,” I tell him as I slide lower, back between his thighs.

“I’ve been lying to everyone,” Baz says. 

“And you still think I should help you?”

“Yes,” Baz says. “Please.” He screws up his eyes. “If you want to. Please.”

“I’ll take pity on you,” I say.

I don’t bother to pretend I won’t do it – Baz needs me, and I really want to be inside him again. I bend his legs up and push right in.

I only realise after I’ve done it that I was so eager that I’ve forgotten to re-lubricate myself. But Baz doesn’t seem to mind – those are _definitely_ the good groans – and anyway there’s enough stuff still in him from before that I guess it doesn’t matter.

“You’re lucky you feel so good,” I say as I start to properly fuck him. (Although obviously _I’m_ the one who’s lucky. I get to do this to Baz.) “I can do this all day.”

Baz whimpers. “Please, no.” I love the feel of him trembling under me, his hands clenching and unclenching in the bindings each time I bottom out in him. “I want to come.”

“You will.”

“ _Soon_.”

“Yeah. You’ll come soon,” I pant – although, actually, I think what I actually mean is that _I_ will. _I’m_ going to come soon. Baz’s arse is too perfect, and I can already feel the heat pooling in my gut. I’m ramping myself up more and more with each thrust.

Which means – _fuck_ – this isn’t going to work.

Fuck.

“ _Fuck_ ,” I say out loud.

I make myself stop, like Baz wouldn’t allow me to last time – but this time things are different. I’m in charge now. It’s the right thing to do. But it’s also so fucking hard, because everything in me screams to keep going.

“Snow?” Baz peers blearily at me as I pull myself back out of him, just enough so that everything’s out except the head of my cock. Then I grip myself hard at the base in case it helps. (It does, a bit.) (Not that much, though.)

“Hold on,” I tell Baz as I ease myself back into him. (I should tell myself the same fucking thing because it’s so tempting just to start railing him again until he screams.) “I need to slow down. And you need more.”

“Yes.” Baz’s voice is croaky, but he’s agreeing. I lean back far enough that I can get one of my hands around his cock. It’s damp and slick with the lube I put there earlier and with how much he’s still leaking. I give him a few tugs and then pinch one of his nipples with my other hand.

“Better?” I ask as his back arches and my cock slides out of him a bit, dragging against his walls.

He just shakes his head. I pinch him hard and he hisses. “It’s good, but—”

But it’s not enough. He doesn’t need to finish that sentence. Nothing’s building. He isn’t any closer.

I growl in frustration. And because I know it makes Baz hot when I’m a brute and I need all the help I can get. It makes him clench around me and moan. Which doesn’t help – my hips are spasming into him with need before I can stop them.

I feel like I’m going to lose. The situation is impossible and I should probably give up, let myself come, and then try and regroup. But I hate the thought of losing, almost as much as I hate the idea of letting Baz down. Thinking about losing always makes me more determined to keep fighting.

And I almost always win.

I know Baz likes pain. And he _definitely_ gets off on not being in control. So I let go of him and bring both my hands up to his throat. One of them, my right hand, is still covered in a mess of lube and Baz’s pre-cum. But I think Baz likes feeling dirty, too, so I don’t wipe it.

I’m half wondering if this is a step too far, even for Baz. If this is going to ruin everything and make me look like a pervert (Baz asked me to _spank_ him, and even bondage is fairly vanilla), but his droopy eyes flare open and he nods.

“Fuck, Simon. Yes.”

He titles his head back, exposing more of his throat. I lick my lips. “Right. Shake your head if it’s too much.”

He nods again. So eager.

That means I definitely have to do it.

I’ve choked people before, but never erotically. I usually try and crush the person’s windpipe, so I don’t do that. I rest my thumbs against the side of his neck and push.

Baz thrashes and twitches under me. I let him go. We’re both panting. I don’t know why I am – I think I just didn’t expect to find it so hot. Baz’s eyelashes are fluttering and his chest is heaving.

“ _More_ ,” he rasps.

“You liked it?”

He nods between breaths. “It might. Actually work. It feels like – your magic. So good.”

“My magic feels like being _choked_?”

“The high,” Baz explains. “Endorphins. Air loss. Yes. More.”

I close my hands back around his throat again. And this time, I give in and let myself fuck him a bit while he writhes. I need to. Baz is so gorgeous and strong, but I’ve got him under me. He’s not fighting back. I’ve won, but he wants that. He wants me to be in control and I am. My skin is so hot and he’s still so cold. And those noises – and the feeling of him, and the way he twitches because of me, just – Fuck.

I want to flow into him. Surround myself with him. I feel like I’m going to explode. Go off. Which is … Well, it’s a really good idea, actually. I probably should have thought of it earlier. But I suppose Baz has been fairly distracting.

I loosen my grip and he gulps in air. “Baz, I’m going to give you my magic.”

He looks lost. And so lovely. (I think his neck is starting to bruise a bit.) (Baz never bruises – fuck, I must be really hurting him.) But he still nods.

“All right.”

My hands close around his neck again and I push magic through my palms and into him. He stiffens. Arches. His lips move and I let go of his throat, so he can get it out.

“Fuck. _Fuck_.”

“Yeah,” I say.

“Fuck,” Baz whimpers.

I’m still working my hips into him – I don’t think I could stop now, even if I wanted to. My body knows I’m almost at the limit. I drop my head to his chest and kiss him there. He just smells like sweat here. I lick it off him and push my tongue into his mouth. I think he tries to kiss back, but he’s too weak.

When I pull back, I see his face is full of pain and desperation. His voice is trembling as he says my name, pleading with me.

“ _Simon_ —”

“You want to come, right?”

Baz just sobs brokenly in answer.

I cup his cheek with my hand and push more magic into him. “Then say it. Say what you want to do.”

“ ** _I want to fucking_ come**, Simon,” Baz snarls – and it’s as if something snaps inside him.

His whole body tenses – the muscles of his arms standing out beautifully as he grips at the ties around his wrist – and then relaxes. His hips spasm. And I feel dampness spatter over my stomach.

He’s shouting, gasping – that turns to whimpering as I start thrusting back into him again.

“There you go,” I croon as he gives himself up to it, pressing his head back into the bed and letting more sobs wrack through him as I chase my own orgasm. “Told you I wouldn’t come first.”

But it doesn’t take long, either.

Baz’s arse keeps clenching and he keeps jerking his hips – I can’t tell whether it’s on purpose, although knowing Baz it probably is. It feels incredible either way. And post-orgasmic Baz is so gorgeous and just as determined to have me come in him again that I do.

I grip Baz’s shoulders and press my face into his chest and spill into him for a second time as Baz murmurs, “That’s right, Simon. That’s so good, darling. Thank you.”

It takes me a while to pull myself back together afterwards. But then I remember that Baz is still tied up and I should probably do something about it.

I decide it will take too long to undo all the knots, so I just grab some scissors (from Baz’s desk, I don’t have any) and snip through one of them.

“For fuck’s sake, Snow, I’ll _obviously_ need that again,” Baz protests when I cut through the other one, too, but he doesn’t stop me. “Fine,” he says instead. “Thank you. I can magic it back together, I suppose.”

He pulls his hands down, flexing them, and I pass him his wand.

He takes it and spells both of us clean. I try not to be too disappointed – I would’ve been happy to try licking him clean, but Baz looks exhausted. Mentally and physically wrung out. I know I did that to him, so I can give him a break. I tug the covers up over him (Baz gets cold easily) and lie down on top of them next to him.

Baz’s eyes rake down my body, in a way I definitely don’t mind. Then he groans and puts a hand over his eyes. “Maybe you should put some clothes on, Snow. I really can’t go again but you’re making me want to.” 

That doesn’t sound too bad to me – we’ve already missed all our classes – but I don’t want to make Baz uncomfortable (not _more_ uncomfortable, anyway) so I roll off the bed and start pulling my trousers back on while he pretends not to watch.

“Sorry it took me so long,” I say as I start on my shirt.

Baz is sitting up in bed now, the covers draped artfully over his lap. He raises an eyebrow at that. “Are you feeding me my lines?”

“I mean, to remember my magic did that.”

“Oh,” Baz says. He blushes. “I thought of it almost immediately, actually.”

I stare at him. “You’re _not_ serious.”

“When you didn’t suggest it, I thought I must be wrong.”

“Why didn’t you ask?”

Baz shifts uncomfortably. “It’s possible I didn’t want to come as much as I thought I did.”

I laugh – I can’t help it. The corner of Baz’s mouth twitches.

“Do you think you liked being made to wait?” I ask.

“Obviously,” he says embarrassed. “Though next time we can just use a cock ring or something, like normal people.”

It feels so good to hear him say it.

 _Next time._ There’s going to be a next time.

I thought there would be. I promised to suck him off a lot, and Baz and I have been talking about Christmas and being boyfriends, but that was while he was still under the spell. Even though I thought he _was_ in his right mind, it was still possible Baz was saying whatever he thought he had to say to get what he wanted. But he’s not spelled now. He just wants this.

He told me to leave him to cool down – but fuck it. I can’t stay away from him right now. Or ever, really.

I climb back on top of him and kiss him soundly. Then, when he doesn’t push me away, I press my magic into him through every part of where we’re touching. Lips, hands, the curve of my back where Baz has already tugged my shirt out of my trousers.

Baz’s arches beneath, his lips sliding away from mine as his head tilts back.

“Fuck, that’s so good, Simon.”

I kiss his exposed throat. “More?”

“I can’t come again.”

I think that’s a no. I roll off him, pulling it all back inside me again while Baz gets his breath back. 

“Was it always a sex thing for you?” I ask curiously. “The magic sharing.”

“No,” Baz says sharply. Then he reconsiders. “Well, yes. Partly. I _have_ fancied you forever, I wasn’t lying. I liked you touching me and it _is_ definitely a rush.”

“But?”

“I also like the power,” he admits. “I like the idea of what I could do with it. Knowing I could _do_ anything. I always envied you that.”

“But you’re already so good at everything.”

Baz shakes his head. “There are people far more powerful than me. Not just you. Neil Gaiman. My aunt. And, as much as I hate to admit it, your mentor—”

“Ebb,” I suggest.

Baz frowns. “I meant the Mage, but all right. Who’s Ebb?”

“You know, Ebb the goatherd.”

“The _goatherd_ is more powerful than me?”

I laugh. “Yeah. She’s immense. One time she told me …”

“What?” Baz says snidely as I trail off. “Once the goatherd told you the secrets of magic, is that it?”

She’s never done that. I _was_ going to tell him a story Ebb told me about how a titan once stole the Weeping Tower and the headmistress had to ask Ebb to get it back. But what I’ve just realised is that the headmistress in that story was _Baz’s mum._ She was headmistress before the Mage. Ebb has lived on the grounds for years, she lived here while Baz’s mum was headmistress. If Nicodemus is someone that Baz’s mum knew then Ebb probably remembers him.

I push myself up and out of the bed, which involves climbing over Baz, who is still annoyed _and_ confused.

“Snow, what it is?” he demands.

I’m pulling on my shoes. “We have to go and see Ebb. Get dressed.”

“I don’t want to,” he says peevishly. “I’d rather not be reminded of my inadequacy again today, thank you.”

“Don’t be an idiot.”

“And again,” Baz says through his teeth. “Thank you.”

I sigh. “Baz, I think Ebb might know who Nicodemus is.” 

His eyes widen. And the next thing I know Baz is out of bed and pulling on clothes. It’s a bit of a shame in a way, he looks good naked, but he also looks good in everything and there’s a mystery to solve, so I don’t mind.

“Right,” Baz says, once he’s dressed in his weekend gear. (Smart trousers, a shirt with a collar that hides what I did to his neck, and a soft jumper). “Let’s go then. I’m looking forward to hearing what she knows.”

I don’t know if he means it, but he says it a lot like a threat. Like – _I’m looking forward to hearing what you know, Mr Bond._

I tug him back, just before he gets to the door. “Wait. If you’re going to come with me, you can't be rude to her.”

Baz’s lip curls. “It’s my school too. I don’t need your permission to see the goatherd.”

“I mean it, Baz.”

“And what are you going to do if I am, Snow?” He raises an eyebrow. “ _Spank_ me?”

“No,” I say awkwardly. “I’ll just be embarrassed.”

Baz looks like he can think of plenty of things to say to that, but eventually he just sighs. (Not exactly the same uninhibited submission he was giving me earlier, but it’s also nicer somehow. Maybe because he doesn’t think he’s getting anything out of it.)

“ _Fine_.”

“I’ll spank you, if you’re good,” I say, grinning.

Baz’s eyes darken. “Promise?”

I nod, holding his gaze, letting him see how much I mean it.

He shuts his eyes, breathing out through his nose.

“Brilliant, Snow. Now I’ve got another erection.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [ghost_in_love](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghost_in_love/pseuds/ghost_in_love) drew the [spanking scene](https://twitter.com/aocelusti/status/1361969721961144327?s=20) from this chapter! (NSFW art). It's great!
> 
> Next chapter is epilogue. Comes with plot, a bit more sex, and some warnings at the beginning.


	2. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two very different people find out about Simon and Baz's relationship. Some major plot points are resolved and (almost) everyone goes home happy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Was this necessary? No. But my brain really thought it was. 
> 
> If you've read my deleted scenes, you may recognise something that happens here as being an idea I've wanted to use for a year. Delighted (if surprised) to find it worked in _this_ fic. 
> 
> Welcome to the strangely plotty part.
> 
> (TW: for adult using sexualised language in front of a child - but probably not in the way you think – and a child being homophobic. Please let me know if you think I need more tags.)

## EPILOGUE

**SIMON**

I run into Penelope in the hallway before our first lesson on Monday. She spent the weekend with her family, so we haven’t seen each other since Friday, which always feels like forever even when we’re _not_ deep in some crisis. I expect her to start demanding updates immediately about what I’ve been doing without her, but she doesn’t. She just looks upset.

“I’m sorry, Simon – my mum doesn’t think it’s a good time for you to come for Christmas. What with everything going on.”

“Oh,” I say – and then I sort of stop, because I can’t believe I forgot to tell Penny what happened with me and Baz. I’ve been sending her birds all weekend, but mostly about the Mage and the Humdrum. I guess it would’ve been awkward to add something like _P.S. Baz and I are dating and I’m going to his house for Christmas. He likes it when I choke him._ But I could have sent her something. Penny is my best friend, after all.

“Sorry,” she says gloomily. “I really tried.”

“No,” I say. “It’s okay. I think I might be staying with Baz.”

“Ooh,” Penny says and she’s instantly mega-interested. Her face lighting up. “Is it a strategy session? Do you think he’d let me come too? I could ditch my family.” 

This is typical Penny. A minute ago, she was worried she might be ruining Christmas for me. Now she wants to leave _her_ Christmas to spend more time in the thick of it. 

I can’t really blame her. Things _have_ been really interesting recently.

Going to Ebb (which Baz and I _did_ do, eventually) was basically just a hunch. I thought it might lead to nothing, even if it was the best idea I’d had in ages.

I didn’t expect Nicodemus to be Ebb’s _brother_. Ebb’s brother who went to the vampires and was stricken from the book. It was dead awkward hearing about it with Baz right there with me, since obviously he is also a vampire and his greatest fear is probably being chucked out of the World of Mages. I tried to leave as soon as I could, but Baz just asked whether Ebb had Nicodemus’s telephone number. (Very politely.) And she _did._

Baz insisted on calling him right away. We hadn’t even left Ebb’s. He’s got a mobile, of course (even though they’re banned), which I guess I was glad about because it meant Ebb wouldn’t be in trouble. No one could trace the call to her. She says she hasn’t spoken to him for years or heard his voice. But I could tell she wanted to, so I made Baz put it on speaker.

That meant that when Nicodemus told us that someone had tried to hire him to send the vampires into Watford, but he wouldn’t say who it was, Ebb heard it all. She took the phone from Baz and walked off with it into the barn.

 _“Flipping hell, Nicky,”_ I heard her say. _“The kid’s mum crossed the Veil to get him to talk to you. And that’s the best you can do?”_

When she came back about ten minutes later, it was obvious she’d been crying. She hugged me.

_“I’m sorry, Simon – it was the Mage. He killed Mistress Pitch. Nicky told me everything.”_

Then she told Baz to look after me, before telling both of us not to do anything stupid like go and confront him ourselves while she went to tell the Coven.

They arrested the Mage that evening. Apparently, he went quietly once Ebb promised to do something about the Humdrum and now Penny’s mum is headmistress.

I’m still not sure how I feel about it all. I think Baz feels the same. We barely spoke to each other at all on Saturday, just watched Netflix together. Then Baz’s dad rang him to tell him what had happened and to tell him to get ready for the war, I think, and Baz told him he wasn’t going to fight me. He also said the whole war was idiotic, since the Humdrum was still out there and a threat to everyone. 

_“Father, it’s obvious we have to work_ with _Simon, now,”_ I heard him say. “ _Mage’s Heir or not, he_ is _the Chosen One. He’s the Greatest Mage and the only one of us who stands a chance at saving our world.”_

Baz took the call on the landing outside our room, but – well. He was talking very loudly by that point and I think I heard most of it. And I definitely heard the way his voice trembled as he said it.

Anyway, we watched a lot less Netflix once he came back.

I’m remembering now that I told Penny (by bird) that I didn’t think there was going to be a war. That Baz had handled it. And that now we knew what had happened to his mum, he was going to help with what to do about the dead spots.

Putting it all together, I can _definitely_ see why she’d think I’m going to spend all the Christmas holidays doing important Chosen One stuff. Rather than what I actually think I’ll be doing, which is sitting around at Baz’s, eating his food, and shagging him senseless over all the family heirlooms.

Penny’s still looking at me expectantly. I try not to blush.

“Baz actually invited me before all the stuff with the Mage happened,” I tell her. “As his boyfriend.”

Penny looks disappointed. “You mean you’re not going to talk about the Humdrum at all?”

“We probably will,” I say. “Baz says he has a better library than here. It’d be worth a look.”

“Ugh, I’m so jealous,” Penny says. “Are you sure I can’t come?”

I shrug. “You’re not surprised Baz and I are going out?”

“You were holding his hand all last week, Simon,” Penny says. “I’m not an idiot. I didn’t believe that magic-sharing story.”

Of course, Baz has to choose this moment to arrive. Sauntering over like I didn’t leave him half an hour ago, hiding under the covers and damning me for opening the curtains. He spelled both our ties back together (together separately, I mean; not together together) and there’s really no sign of it. He looks as perfect as always.

He smirks at me and I swallow, adjusting my own tie to give myself more air.

Penny waves at him distractedly. “Oh hey, Baz.”

“Bunce. I hope you offered your mother my congratulations.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Penny says. “I hear you and Simon are going to have fun together over Christmas.”

“For fuck’s sake, Snow,” Baz hisses. “Do you really think that’s appropriate?”

Penny’s eyebrows rise above her glasses.

I lean closer to Baz. “She means – researching the Humdrum in your library.”

He frowns. “Ah.”

“Because it’s a really good library.”

“Yes,” Baz says. “That’s right, it is.”

He looks like he already regrets a lot of his choices. But I feel like he could still regret them a bit more and I’m getting a bit addicted to one-upping Baz. I grin at him.

“Obviously, I didn’t tell her about all the kinky sex we’ll be having.”

Baz rolls his eyes. “Right. Well, thank goodness for that.”

“As if I’d be interested!” Penny says. “Do what you like behind closed doors.” She grabs my elbow and tugs. “Now come on. We’ll be late for Political Science. I think we’re covering the founding of the NHS today – Baz will probably need moral support in the form of handholding.”

“Oh, piss off, Bunce,” Baz says.

But he does let me hold his hand all the way through the lesson.

And through Magic Words. And at lunch. (It's nice.) 

I don’t even need to share my magic with him to get him to do it.

**BAZ**

Simon Snow is better than his word. It’s Christmas morning, still a week before New Year, and already I’m having trouble sitting down without wincing. Simon keeps grinning at me across the dining room table as I shift my weight. I keep kicking him under the table.

Not that I actually mind, of course. If I did, I would have spelled myself better before I got dressed. I actually like my boyfriend teasing me and the lingering reminder that a few hours earlier he was pushing rather more things into my arse than I could comfortably take, and then paddling me until I screamed.

But I don’t want any of the children to ask me what the problem is. I already choked on my buck’s fizz when Mordelia asked Simon why he kept licking his lips when he had a napkin right there.

“I’m really excited about the next course,” he told her. “Your cook is amazing. Everything I’ve put in my mouth since I got here has been incredible.”

At which point, I choked again because Simon’s put lots of parts of _me_ into his mouth since he got here. (Not all at the same time.) But I don’t think he realised that was an innuendo because that time he kicked _me_.

Father is definitely not amused by our antics. (Both he and Daphne know Simon and I are a couple. Daphne even put us in the same room, which I was surprised about until she reminded me that we share a room back in Watford and that she’d prefer not to wash two sets of sheets if she didn’t have to.) But none of my silencing spells have failed yet and neither Simon nor I have said or done anything that that can’t be explained away to the younger Grimms as "boys being boys".

This morning is the worst we’ve been so far, though, and I can tell that – even comparatively full of the Christmas spirit – my father’s patience is wearing thin.

He might be more forgiving if he knew we’d fought the Humdrum together last night. (Well, I say _fought_. There wasn’t much actual fighting - but it ended in the Humdrum running away, so I’m counting it as a battle won.) That’s why Simon and I are so particularly full of _joie de vivre_ today.

I haven’t told him yet, because I don’t want to ruin Christmas. (No one wants to find out the greatest threat to magic turned up instead of Saint Nick while they and their children nestled all snug in their beds, least of all my father.) I also haven't told him because I know the specifics will upset him, even if I leave out the extremely violent victory sex I had with my boyfriend after it was over.

The Humdrum found us outside – in the middle of the night. The reason we were out there, obviously, was that I’m a vampire and I needed to find something to drink, and Simon refused to let me go alone. Before he and I were together, I used to be able to sneak out without waking him, but we _are_ together now. And we were we were sharing a bed. Simon’s arms were wrapped around my naked body and he woke up when I tried to pull away. (That’s three things my father wouldn’t like already, if you include anyone outside the family knowing what I am, which I think is probably his greatest fear.)

The Humdrum showed up after I’d finished feeding. Simon had already told me what it (he?) looked like, thank Crowley, although it was still fairly horrifying. Particularly since he told me my fangs were “ _Wicked_ ” in almost exactly the same way Simon had a few hours earlier.

“I’ve never played with a vampire before,” the Humdrum said. “This is going to be brilliant.”

He reached out towards me, but I'd been holding hands with Simon and he - Simon - yanked me back and behind him before the Humdrum could touch me.

“Leave him alone.”

“Don’t you want to see what happens when I push some of what I got into him?”

“ _Crowley_ ,” I muttered.

“ _No_ ,” Simon said firmly. “Just go away. Leave Baz alone.”

“ _Boring_ ,” the Humdrum said. “Why are you holding hands with him, anyway? He’s a boy.”

“Because you like boys,” I explained. “The way other boys like girls.”

“ _Baz_ ,” Simon protested. “That’s _not_ me. He just looks like me." Both of them were bright red. "And I _do_ like girls. I just also like you. As well.”

“ _Ugh_ ,” the Humdrum said, almost as horrified as Simon or I had been to see him appear. “You mean you’re _gay_?”

“ _You’re_ gay,” I retorted – because I was tired. And in the mood to be childish. And because I remember Simon when he looked like this and how easy it was to make him run away crying with a few choice words.

“No, I’m not!” the Humdrum protested. And I thought: _I’ve got you now, Simon Snow._

“You are,” I told him, letting go of my Simon’s hand to advance on his younger self. “You’re gay. And you fancy me. When you’re older, you’re going to want to kiss me and hold my hand and tell me how lovely I am while we have sex.”

“Don’t be so gross.”

“You tell me that too,” I agreed. “While I’m panting and covered in your spunk and begging for you to put your cock in me again.”

“I’m not listening to this,” the Humdrum said. He actually covered his ears before turning to Simon. “I’ll be back when he’s gone, though.”

“Good luck,” I said as he vanished. “I live here.”

The dry, sucking feeling that had been hanging in the air vanished too, and I turned back to the Simon who was left behind, eyebrows raised.

“All right,” he said. “Maybe that _was_ me. Somehow. And clearly I had some unresolved issues with my sexuality as a child.”

“Clearly,” I agreed. “But you’re over all that now, I trust.”

“Yeah. Want me to prove it to you?”

Of course, I said I did. That’s how we got into the thorough beating and arse-full-of-sex-toys situation that is the root of my current discomfort. Simon had me suck him off. He wrapped his legs tightly around my head until I thought I was going to choke on him and told me how good I felt and how clever I was to have scared off the Humdrum without any magic. Then he spanked me with a hairbrush for traumatising him as a child and finally let me come in his hand when I apologised. After that, he fell asleep again in my arms. 

It’s probably too early to call it – ten am is fairly early by anyone’s standards, although the children have been up for hours – but this is probably the best Christmas I’ve ever had. It might even be the best Christmas I’ll _ever_ have, although I hope Simon and I will still be together in the future. And who knows? He might think of something better than choking me. I’d like him to try.

Once breakfast is over, Simon and I excuse ourselves and I drag him into the nearest room with a lock. It happens to be the music room, but that’s not important right now. What’s important is that there’s a door I can push my boyfriend up against without any of my siblings watching.

“You’re a menace,” I tell him, between kisses. “I should never have invited you.”

“Too late to change your mind now,” Simon growls. And he flips us, so that my back’s to the door and he’s pushing me into it. I hiss as my tender backside collides with the wood and Simon starts to pull back. Presumably he’s checking I’m all right (even though he’s done _much_ worse things to me in the last twenty-four hours alone) but although I like his solicitousness, I don’t need it right now. I just need to get off before I have to go back to my family. I pull Simon’s hips hard into mine until he gets the idea. Then let him rut against me and bite at my neck while I grip his hair.

He comes first, as usual – inside the trousers of the very expensive suit I ordered for him – groaning into my shoulder. I give a moment to recover, but he’s already on his knees, yanking my trousers open and pulling me out of my pants. I’m not spelled, or wearing a cock ring (we were having _breakfast),_ so I come fairly soon after that.

Simon licks my spunk off his lips.

“Disgusting,” I tell him breathlessly, and he kisses me and lets me spell him clean.

“This is nice,” he says, taking in the music room at last. “I didn’t see this room yesterday.”

It _is_ nice. Well-lit, with several large windows (too far away from the door for it to be a problem – I did check), and a grand piano. It’s one of my favourite rooms in the house – I’d spend more time here if my siblings were banned, but Daphne insists all of us take piano and this is where the piano is, so it would hardly be practical.

I watch as Simon runs his hands over the polished wood of the lid, and then casually plonks at some of the keys.

“Why’d you choose violin over piano?”

“I can carry my violin to school,” I tell him. “The piano has to stay here and the instruments at Watford are terrible.”

“You mean you _can_ play it?”

“Obviously.”

His mouth is hanging open. “I don’t believe you. Play me something.”

I raise an eyebrow. “Are you sure you don’t just want me to play you something?”

“Are you sure you don’t want to play me something?” he counters.

He knows me far too well. I _do_ want to play for him, even if I’m out of practice, but I think he wants to listen too. 

“All right.”

I take a seat and Simon – distractingly – sits next to me on the stool and bumps his shoulder into mine. I smile at him because I can’t stop smiling at Simon Snow now I’ve started. And spread my fingers out into a familiar pattern of notes. 

“Elton John,” Simon says, smiling too as he recognises it.

I nod. “Not the one that caused all the trouble, though – just something that makes me think of you.”

I expect him to mock me for that. The sentiment is as sappy as the song, but he doesn’t.

He rests his head against my shoulder and lets me sing for him. Lets me tell him how wonderful life is, now.


End file.
